


ITF Secret Santa

by TheZeroMoment



Category: In the Flesh (TV)
Genre: M/M, Secret Santa, Siren
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-04 23:03:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3095858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheZeroMoment/pseuds/TheZeroMoment
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My In The Flesh secret santa contribution for sulkybbarnes.tumblr.com<br/>Merry late Christmas <3</p>
            </blockquote>





	ITF Secret Santa

Kieren sighed, running his shaking fingers over yet another half finished drawing of Amy, smudging the charcoal carelessly.

 

 

He inhaled deeply and pointlessly; for the Undead technically didn’t need to breath, trying to still his hands again by clenching them into fists, hating how the odd shakes wouldn’t go away as easily anymore.  
Amy wouldn’t want him to be moping, Amy would want him to go be all lovey-dovey with Simon under some mistletoe and help his mum prepare the turkey and decorate the Christmas tree with Jem.

 

It was _Christmas Eve_.

His first Christmas back at home in five years and god be damned if he wasn’t going to enjoy it.   
That’s better, she would’ve preferred him thinking like this.

 

He paused to wipe the charcoal off his fingers with the cloth he kept at the side for that exact purpose and set aside the drawing; he couldn’t get her nose right, he would finish it later.

He should go see Simon, it was only fair, they hadn’t seen each other properly in a few days and Kieren missed him, although he was still being odd and flighty since it came out that he betrayed the ULA and _didn’t_ kill Kieren like he was supposed to...

 

Sure he’d been mad when Simon first told him, but he was all Simon had now, and he was growing rather fond of that fact.

 

Sniffing his nose to help ward off the looming nosebleeds that had been occurring as of late, he bundled on his jacket and boots, picking up the shoddily wrapped present for Simon which was tossed amongst his scattered chalks and sneaking down the stairs and out of the house as quietly as possible past his sister, humming and bustling around the tree and Dad sat in front of the telly watching one of his festive blu-rays.

 

It was completely still outside, frost covering the road, making it shimmer and look more like the stars than the ones in the clear, dark sky.

He shivered, feeling the cold nip at his bare fingers and cheeks and nose and knows that if he was alive he would surely have been frostbitten, so he set off walking.

 

The bungalow was quiet; as per usual now Amy wasn’t there to blast classical music into the early hours of the morning, all the lights were on and the curtains drawn, allowing Kieren to see ghostly silhouettes of furniture clinging to the heavy drapes.

He slipped down the small icy path to the front door, which he didn’t even bother knocking on before entering. The bungalow was more of a second home and stepping into the slightly less frigid hall almost made him want to shout out ‘I’m home!’

Instead, he said in a timid voice “Si?” making the older man appear around the door to the sitting room.

 

“Kieren?” He squinted slightly in the dim light, he was wearing nothing but one of his massive, soft looking jumpers and some very old-person-ish blue pajama trousers. His skin was hallowed and unhealthy looking – more so than usual and a thin tattered book was clenched in one hand “What’re you doin’ here? It’s late.”

“It’s Christmas.” Kieren stated. The older man just raised his eyebrows so Kieren held out the present “I forgot to give this to yeh.”

Simon’s expression softened almost instantly, quickly stepping aside to let Kieren into the living room where he abruptly plopped down on the squishy worn sofa and toed off his big boots but decided to leave on his jacket, wrapping it closer around his thin frame.

“Er... Do ya want me to take your coat?” Simon asked awkwardly before Kieren shook his head.

“’S cold, just c’mere.”

Simon didn’t protest this odd statement before he sat on the sofa near to him, although the sizable gap between them was still there and still annoying. Ever since Simon saved him, he’d been treating him like a delicate doll more so than he did beforehand, hardly ever touching him and looking at him with the creepy sort of wonderment that Simon was prone to.

 

“Here.” Kieren said abruptly and shoved the parcel he still had clenched in his hands into Simon’s. He paused for a moment.

“I didn’t get you anything.”

“Consider it a thank you present for saving my neck, then.” Kieren rolled his eyes. Simon seemed to feel his annoyance and tenderly picked at the scotch tape and peeled back the creased paper, which was just plain red, as all the other wrapping paper they seemed to have in the house was garish and covered with comic little _‘Happy Birthday!’_ s.

 

When Simon unclicked the CD case Kieren felt a sudden rush of insecurity and need to explain himself.

“It’s a mix CD, I mean it’s not much but I used to make ‘em all the time ‘nd I thought you’d like it-”

“Thank you,” Simon’s voice was oddly breathless. “I mean it, no one’d ever made me things before.”

He ran his pale fingers with cracked fingernails over the disc written simply ‘For Simon’ in his artists scrawl, along with a list of some of the quieter songs he thought Simon would like.

 

And all of a sudden, they were kissing.

 

Cold and dry, but carrying the meaning of such deep affection Kieren wanted to curl into himself and never move again. Simon’s fingers were pressing in lightly to his bare cheeks while Kieren scrunched his hands in the scruff of jumper around Simon’s neck. He was so soft and gentle and everything, even the other man’s icy skin sent shivers of sensations bursting in his brain. Simon shifted back slightly as Kieren’s breath turned heavy.

“You alright, Kieren?” He asked, soft Irish accent softening the harsh letters and smoothing over the last couple of letters in each word, making them seem... sweeter.

“I felt that.”

“What?”

 

Kieren reached up and traced over his lips with his fingertips, which were warm. He was _warm_.

“I felt that. I could feel you kissing me, and how stupidly scratchy your granddad jumpers are.” He laughed giddily, unable to contain his joy. He could feel.

 

He could feel, he could feel and his fingertips were warming up and Simon was hugging him and laughing or crying he couldn’t tell which as Kieren shook again and clenched at the spare material around Simon’s waist, running what felt like raw nerves over and over the knitted ribbing.

 

He felt like if he could cry, he would be crying as Simon kissed him again, a quick pressure of cold against his grinning mouth.

“You’re so, so amazing.” He whispered, smiling in awe of the small boy, sitting half in his lap and giggling like an idiot.

Kieren couldn’t help it. Was he alive? He didn’t care, he was fine, he was warm, he was feeling again.

“Never let me say anythin’ against Christmas miracles again.” He said suddenly, curling into Simon again and letting the other man press soft chilly kisses to his forehead.


End file.
